


Why is Glass Sharp Again?

by cilceon



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:00:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cilceon/pseuds/cilceon
Summary: “Don’t know whatcha mean, I’m as cool as a cucumber.”“Uh huh.” High Rise mumbled rolling a puzzle piece between is fingers, “By how you’ve been acting, it’s like you think she’s dead. Jalapeño got a strong ass stimpack in her and they say the blood transfusion should have worked. Wanderer’ll be fine.”“I didn’t say the transfusion should have succeeded. I know it did.” A voice scoffed from their side. Jalapeño, Ticon’s very own version of Doc Carrington, was finishing cleaning up the makeshift hospital in the corner of the lobby.Jalapeño was a lot more approachable than Carrington, but more in a Glory than a Wanderer sort of way. When Deacon brought Wanderer in through the elevator, it was Jalapeño who greeted them.They had sighed, shaking their head and gestured to the gurney while rolling up their sleeves. Like a kid had just tracked mud through a hallway. “Put her down there and explained what you did.” A twitch in their eyebrow was Deacon’s only indicator that the situation was serious.
Relationships: Deacon/Female Sole Survivor, Deacon/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Why is Glass Sharp Again?

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ Hi there! theres a better version thats much longer [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29463801/chapters/72373647) that you should read instead!! This version is only up for archival reasons xx

PLEASE READ NOTES ABOVE

“ _Only you can make all this world seem right. Only you can make the darkness bright. Only you and you alone, can thrill me like you do, and fill my heart with love for only you…”_

Of all the things Wanderer though she would wake up to, The Platters wasn’t high on the list.

But here she was laying down in a warm bed, eyes closed with The Platters playing softly in the distance. Wanderer was tired and honestly, she didn't want to open her eyes just yet. So, there she remained not moving listening to the song finish.

There was a crash of lightning from outside wherever she was, the sickening static signaling a radiation storm. She didn't mind though, she was somewhere warm, and the platters were playing it couldn't be all that bad, wherever the location might be.

It wasn't until the song finished in another played that she realized the music was coming from a different room. In the silence between tracks, she heard the echo of someone shuffling next to her. Wanderer supposed it was the lack of blood that made her too tired to be alarmed. If anything, she was annoyed she wasn't alone.

She cracked an eye open slowly and peeked to her side. It looked like she was in an old office building- one of the old high-rise apartments maybe. But more importantly, beside her was a face she wasn't expecting to see again, looking at an unopened bottle of nuka-cola in his hands.

Wanderer smiles and spoke softly as not to scare him. “Hi there H2,” He flinched regardless, “I wasn't expectin’ to see you again.”

H2-22 snapped his head in full attention towards her, “Oh I um… I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon! I should go tell the others you're up.” He set down the cola and moved to stand.

“It's alright, it’s alright… where am I?” She blinked, eyes begging to stay closed.

“Oh you're- you're at Ticon. Deacon brought you of last night, you were in really bad shape, so we've been taking turns watching over you.”

“Oh…That makes sense is. Deacon okay?” She settled back down into the blanket, the inside of her leg protesting the movement. _Why was her leg hurting again?_

“I think so, Wanderer. He been making a lot of jokes with High Rise and the others downstairs.” She knew that meant he wasn’t fine.

She lifted her hand up and went to wipe sleep from her eye, the motion made her more tired than she expected it to, the crook of her arm protesting the movement. Her elbow was wrapped with gause but didn’t look to be bleed from anywhere but for a point right in the center. She didn’t remember getting hurt there. “How are you doing H2?” She asked with a yawn.

H2-22 had been in Ticon for maybe a month now. Wanderer new how nervous Drummer Boy got by that fun little fact. It wasn't good to leave their special packages in one place for too long, but he assured her between drags of a cigarette that he be shipped out somewhere soon and he be safe.

H2 set the soda down on the rusted desk to his left, not looking away from it. “I… got one of the runners to get me one of these for you. They came back right before the um the rad storm started.” He looked on edge, not used to the weather. Hell, she wasn’t really used to it either.ell

“

The storms are really scary, huh?” She looked towards the dust covered window behind him as a flash of green filled it, “But we're safe inside, so you don't got anything to worry about. And that's really sweet of you, I appreciate the thought.”

“You look tired Wanderer,” H2 hesitated, “I- you should sleep.”

She smiled softly, taking a moment to respond, “Yeah… yeah I will… but can you get Deacon for me? Wanna talk to him.” She was already starting to drift back to sleep but blinked harshly to stop herself, not noticing H2 leave.

Wanderer’s eyes closed again, pillow cradling the back of her neck and head. her leg was throbbing with a whisper, but she didn't mind that much. She was warm and tired and most importantly in a place where she wasn't going to get shot at. She could rest her eyes for a moment.

-

“Don’t know whatcha mean, I’m as cool as a cucumber.”

“Uh huh.” High Rise mumbled rolling a puzzle piece between is fingers, “By how you’ve been acting, it’s like you think she’s dead. Jalapeño got a strong ass stimpack in her and they say the blood transfusion should have worked. Wanderer’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t say the transfusion _should have_ succeeded. I know it did.” A voice scoffed from their side. Jalapeño, Ticon’s very own version of Doc Carrington, was finishing cleaning up the makeshift hospital in the corner of the lobby.

Jalapeño was a lot more approachable than Carrington, but more in a Glory than a Wanderer sort of way. When Deacon brought Wanderer in through the elevator, it was Jalapeño who greeted them.

They had sighed, shaking their head and gestured to the gurney while rolling up their sleeves. Like a kid had just tracked mud through a hallway. “Put her down there and explained what you did.” A twitch in their eyebrow was Deacon’s only indicator that the situation was serious.

“Bringing Wands in here like a drowned rat, gah. What’s her blood type again?” They knelt down by a filing cabinet that normally had assorted blood packs inside, it was empty.

Deacon tucked Wanderer’s hair behind her ear, fingers lingering against her skin for just a beat longer than they should, not looking to Jalapeño. “AB negative.” He responded without hesitation.

Jalapeño made an annoyed sound, “And you are?”

“O negative.”

They clapped a hand over Deacon’s shoulder, “Great, sit down and start talking me through what injuries she has… How much blood do ya’ think is inside you?”

High Rise sighed, bringing Deacon’s attention back to the present moment. “What would we do without you Jalapeño?”

They wiped their hands with a blood-stained rag, tossing it into a bucket. “You’d all bleed out on the floor.” Jalapeño turned towards the stairs now, heading to their room upstairs. “I’m going check on H2 and my little patient and then I’m going to bed. You two shits better keep it down and let the rest of us sleep.”

“Scout’s honour.” Deacon crossed his fingers over his chest.

High Rise returned his attention back to the puzzle piece in his hand, resigning to find its home on the board. “You wanna tell me what happened out there Deacon?”

Deacon picked up a previously ignored coffee mug off the table it took a sip from it, “Do you want the extended version or the short version?”

High Rise scoffed, “We got time, I'll take the long version.” He found the home of the puzzle piece and snapped it in place, then move to the next.

“Well you see, Wanderer got shot out of a window by the biggest super mutant I’ve ever seen. Fell two whole stories into a mouldy haybale.”

His companion lifted an eyebrow, music from the radio filling the silence. The Platters? Deacon couldn’t remember.

_“…Only you can make all this change in me, for it's true, you are my destiny. When you hold my hand, I understand the magic that you do. You're my dream come true, my one and only you…”_

Deacon smiled sheepishly and then faded it quickly. “She tripped a wire while we were on a milk ‘n cookies run.” He stared into the bitter liquid in the mug, was coffee good pre-war? It certainly wasn’t now. “It was in an old department store, blew up a glass display case or fish tank or something.”

“Damn, well yeah that'll do it.” High Rise discarded the puzzle piece and grabbed another.

“It happened so fast H. Always fucking does.” He brought the coffee mug back to his mouth taking a heavy swig from it.

“I’m relieved you both made it here. We can’t go losing two of our most important pieces.” High Rise mumbled succeeding with this puzzle piece and then returning to the one that was previously discarded. “Never seen you in that kind of state, coming in here like that.”

High Rise was right. “I wasn't in a state. Like I said, cool as a cucumber.”

“Pfft, yeah I can’t read you like Wands probably can, but I know what it means when you get quiet.”

Deacon drank the last of the coffee with a shrug. “I had to lug her butt halfway through Lexington, I was sleepy.”

“Where did you find wander anyways?” _Oh, a topic changer, huh?_

He didn't know why High Rise picked that one. He had to have known that Deacon would never actually give the real answer. High Rise shook his head and squinted at the puzzle piece in his fingers.

Deacon wouldn't even know where to start with that particular truth… “Yeah, she was running with the caravan up in Bunker Hill. Fell for my charms, you know how it goes.”

High Rise set the puzzle piece down and then leaned back against the couch. “You should have been more careful, and Wanderer should have been too. But it’s over and you’re both still breathing. Move on and learn from it right? That’s your whole thing Dee. It's not like you to worry like that… hm looks like she's a good influence on you.”

“You think I’m changing? I've never changed a thing about me a day in my life High Rise, I’m wounded.” He pressed his hand against his chest in mock hurt.

The man besides him rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “Sarcasm can only get you so far.”

“As far as I need it to.” The sound of a door opening and closing softly, stopped their conversation.

H2 almost tripped down the stairs on his way down to the lobby turned living room. Deacon was already on his feet. Heading towards H2.

Thankfully he did because without him there, H2 would have smacked into the ground and not into Deacon’s chest. “Everything alright buddy?” He asked, keeping his posture calm, but he wondered if H2 could feel his heartbeat and how absurdly fast it was suddenly going. _Get it together Deacon._

“Ah, yes, everything is fine. Wanderer is awake, well she was awake. I think, I think she’s asleep now… but I talked to her for a little bit. She's okay.”

“Of course, she's fine.” He said, setting H2-22 upright, “It's her. When isn't she fine? So, what did our little Wanderer say?” H2 looked out the window at the storm rolling in. It still didn’t look to be leaving anytime soon.

“Oh um, she asked for you.” He ducked his head, moving to sit in Deacon’s now abandoned spot next to High Rise, his attention now on the puzzle.

“Well, doesn’t that warm my little old heart. Bet she’s going to yell at me about her flannel getting all dirty.” He glanced back to High Rise who was putting together what remained of the puzzle, before moving his eyes to the door upstairs.

“Well go on,” High Rise waved his hand, “It’s your turn to sit with her anyways.”

As Deacon moved up the stairs, he heard High Rise praise H2 for finding the home of a puzzle piece.

He opened the door softly to quiet any creak that might come out of it. “Knock, knock.” He whispered, shutting the door behind him.

Wanderer looked like she was asleep, and as he took the seat next to the bed looked her over. Her skin wasn’t as ashy as it was when they first arrived in the safehouse, but it wasn’t back to its normal tone yet.

The gash in her shoulder was now dressed, expertly done by Jalapeño. As was the prick in the crook of her elbow from the transfusion. Wanderer’s chest was falling and rising evenly under the moth-eaten quilt. She looked so small.

Hands on either side of her body, her gold wedding band glinted with the green of the storm that illuminated the small room.

“You just gonna stare at me?” She croaked out, eyes not opening.

Deacon let out a yelp, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up ever so slightly. “I was actually thinking of painting your nails.” He retorted.

“Don’t you dare Dee; I’ll make High Rise stick you out in the storm.”

He let out a theatrical gasp, “Why you would never!”

The smile on her face grew and then fell. She still didn’t open her eyes. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t hesitate as he reached out and wrapped his fingers over her own. _Shit._ Deacon wasn’t thinking, he forgot his place. But it was too late if he took his hand back it would make her sad. Instead he rubbed tinny circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.

Wanderer’s skin was so soft, the pad of his thumb disgustingly rough in comparison. He got the feeling she’d whack his arm if he said that about himself out loud.

“I’m peachy, Wanderer…just peachy.”

“Peachy Deaky.” She giggled loopily.

Between his movement he gave her hand a light squeeze. “More importantly, how are you feeling?”

She hummed in thought, “I’m sleepy, ‘n my thigh is angry. But I think I’ll live.”

“Angry as in ‘oh damn I stepped in a puddle’ or angry as in ‘oh damn Desdemona is out of cigs’?” He mirrored her smile, not that she could see it.

Wanderer moved her head from left to right against the pillow, as if she were weighing the options presented. “I think its angry in a ‘dear lord what have you done to me’ kind of way.”

_What have you done to me indeed._

“Well I guess stitches will do that.”

“Oh ew, god. Don’t say that word! I don’t wanna think about it.” She furrowed her brow and attempted to borrow herself farther into the quilt. Wanderer stopped moving abruptly, eyes peeping open right above the blanket up at him. “You’ve seen a lot of my body in an undisclosed amount of time.” The tips of her ears were tinged pink.

He shrugged, “I didn’t look at your vacooter boss.” He knew that back before the war people were a little bit more shy about particular parts of the body being out, but most people now adays didn’t care who saw what in drastic situations, say a giant piece of glass getting blasted into your inner thigh.

She closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath through her nose, like she was debating throwing the man out the window. “Did you really just call my vagina a vacooter Deacon.”

Deacon’s smile widened. “If I say it enough maybe it’ll catch on. I can become the pioneer of new hip slang. Can you imagine how pissed Glory would be?”

She smiled while shaking her head, returning from the blanket. “The world’s not ready for that kinda genius.” Wanderer trailed off for a moment. “I’m real glad we get to be that kind of close Dee.” Sarcasm was fraying into her words.

“I would hope so,” She laced her finders with his as he spoke. “Be awkward if you weren’t.”

“Hm? Why’s that?” She let her head plop to the side gently against the pillow, eyes still closed.

 _Oh no. Lie or truth. Lie or truth. Lie or-_ “You were hurt really bad, Charlie and needed a little pick me up in the way of a blood donor.”

“Oh…” She went quiet, taking in what he was saying. The grip on is hand tightened with what strength she could muster. “You really did that for me?” Wanderer’s voice was quiet, Deacon assumed it was because sleep was winning her over.

“Of course, h- Wands.” He bit his tongue; thankful her eyes were closed. He had called her honey after she had first gotten hurt, but she was into much of a daze to notice, thank god.

He was slipping. What right could he possibly thing he had to call her something like that? What part of him tried to decide that, yes, he deserved to call her such a thing? He didn’t, no fucking way, he saw the way Preston looked at her when she wasn’t looking. She should be with someone good, not a-

“Deacon.” Wanderer was looking up at him through half lidded eyes, sleep tugging at her. “You turning worry stones into mountains again?”

He gave her hand another squeeze but refused to take it away. For once in his pathetic life he didn’t want to pull away from someone. He didn’t answer her.

“I don’t know what stupid thought your thinking.” _Ouch._ Wanderer’s voice faded into sleep with each word that came after. “But ya’ can’t move on until you stop identifying with it.”

She stilled slightly, sleep finally winning their game of tug o’ war. Wanderer hand loosened in Deacon’s.

He could have let go of it if he wanted. He didn’t.


End file.
